In Good Faith
by DottieP
Summary: This is for the Quinntana week college AU prompt. Quinn is a law professor at Columbia, and Santana has left her job at a D.C. think tank to go back to school and get her J.D. Her first class of the semester is with Professor Fabray.


**In Good Faith**

**Pairing**: Quinn/Santana

**Rating**: NC-17

**Word Count**: 4,191

**Disclaimer**: I don't own these characters yada yada yada.

**Summary**: This is for the Quinntana week college AU prompt. Quinn is a law professor at Columbia, and Santana has left her job at a D.C. think tank to go back to school and get her J.D. Her first class of the semester is with Professor Fabray.

She sat nervously in the lecture room, playing with the pages of her _Contract Law and Theory_ book. It was her first class in Columbia's J.D. program, and she wasn't sure if she was more nervous to be back in school nearly nine years after getting her B.A. or if it was simply first day jitters.

Santana looked around to see mostly younger faces, all eagerly awaiting the professor's arrival. Or, they were glued to their smartphones, probably tweeting or posting some ridiculous rumor about their favorite celebrities on Tumblr. She rolled her eyes at this last thought. She glanced down at her textbook, letting her mind wander—how she decided to give up a sweet gig at a powerful D.C. think tank, how she discovered her passion for advocacy work…how she really needed to get laid. It was then that she heard heels clicking on the tile floor. Without lifting her head, Santana followed black patent leather pumps to the front of the room.

"Good morning, and welcome to Contracts. I'm Quinn Fabray and I'll be your professor this semester. I'm sure you are all eager to get started so let's do so." The nearly raspy voice washed over Santana, and she couldn't keep her mouth from slacking open as she unabashedly stared at the gorgeous woman who would be teaching her—_what was it again? Oh yeah, contracts_—all semester. Professor Fabray glided up and down the aisles of the lecture room, handing out the syllabus while she reviewed the general aspects of the course. Santana could barely pay attention because she was too distracted by how the black skirt hugged perfect curves and by the swell of breasts beneath a snug deep violet blouse.

Professor Fabray continued discussing the syllabus, and Santana couldn't help but overhear two students behind her. "Could she be any more robotic?" one student said sarcastically. The other replied, "Yeah, her 'Ice Queen' nickname seems like a perfect fit." Santana could do nothing but roll her eyes at the lack of maturity of her classmates. She turned her attention back to the professor, who returned to the front of the classroom. Santana took in the beauty of her professor: short wavy blonde hair, rich hazel-green eyes, a full bottom lip covered with a light shade of pink, and a neck at which Santana couldn't help but stare.

_Ice Queen?_ Santana thought. _How is that even possible? I mean, shit, look at her. _Santana sighed deeply_. Oh great, now I'm thinking about tracing ice cubes over her tits. There is no way that I'm getting through this semester without making an ass out of myself or getting caught leering_ _at her like a frat boy_. Santana rolled her eyes at herself this time. It was then that Professor Fabray chose to dismiss them, and Santana couldn't have been more thankful.

As she walked out, Santana glanced over her shoulder to sneak one last look at her professor. She was met with a small smile and a hint of an eyebrow raise from her Quinn. Santana's stomach dropped, and her mouth went dry. For a moment, time stopped. Santana was captured by clear eyes that rooted her in place. Quinn, for her part, made no move to look away; instead, she drank in the sight of her student (clearly closer to her in age than the others in the class). Santana's flawless skin, soulful brown eyes, and flowing hair reminded Quinn of a goddess. In that fleeting moment, they were not professor and student but two women who, in less than an hour and not sharing a word between them, connected with each other in a way that neither had known before. It was a jarring few seconds to say the least.

####

After a long first day, Santana settled into her couch and grabbed her laptop. She had notes to type up but wanted to do a little research first. _It wasn't stalking—no, not at all_. She typed "Quinn Fabray" into Google and started reading.

"Specializes in corporate and international law…"

"Graduated from Stanford Law School with an emphasis in international law…"

"Researcher with the Stanford Center on International Conflict and Negotiation…"

"Publications in the _Indiana Law Review_, _American Journal of International Law_, _Columbia Journal of Transnational Law_…"

"Consultant for the National Center for Children in Poverty…"

_So, she's fucking perfect. Fantastic_, Santana thought, sarcasm coating her words. Santana reluctantly turned her attention away from the more prurient ones centered on her professor towards her work.

####

On campus, a few days later, Quinn sat her in office looking at the seating chart for her contracts class. The name "Santana Lopez" stared back at her, begging for attention. Quinn had noticed the student immediately when she entered the classroom on that first day. Now, she was simply curious. She had never cared about her students' personal lives or their lives prior to entering law school. But, she couldn't ignore Santana, and it scared her. The thought of being attracted to a student had never occurred to her, and now, the attraction was something that she could not shake. _It really isn't fair that she looks like that and sits in the first row. Somewhere, Fate is having a good laugh at my expense._

She spun her chair towards her computer, and, with slight apprehension, Quinn began doing a "background check" on her student. What she found surprised her…and fueled her attraction even further.

"B.A. in economics and political science from Columbia University…"

"Graduated with honors..."

"Recipient of the David Estabrook Romine Prize for her senior thesis entitled 'Globalization, the IMF, and Poverty'…"

"International Project Administrator, Urban Institute, Center on International Development and Governance…"

_Gorgeous and smart. Terrific_, Quinn thought with sarcasm coating her words. She flopped back into chair, closed her eyes, and allowed a vision of Santana (made more vivid with this new information) bounce around in her mind. It was going to be an interesting semester.

###

A few weeks passed with subtle glances shared between the two women during lectures but nothing more. They knew that they were in precarious territory but also couldn't deny their growing attraction. The more Santana observed Quinn during class, the more she liked how the professor moved, talked, and commanded attention. Her brilliance was obvious, but Santana was drawn more to what lurked behind the professional demeanor. She was curious about Quinn's work in international law and her work with the Center.

But, if she were honest with herself, she'd admit that she _really_ couldn't take her eyes off of Quinn's ass. It was those damn suits—the skirts clung nearly obscenely to the professor's ass. Of course, her legs in those skirts also lured Santana. In the middle of an important lecture, Santana found herself drifting off, fantasizing about those long, muscular legs wrapped around her waist…or her head. She wasn't picky.

Quinn, for her part, was just as intrigued by her student. She always hoped that Santana would answer a question during class just so she could watch her talk; Santana's mouth hypnotized the professor. The full lips and the way her tongue would sneak out every now and then to wet the bottom lip absolutely made Quinn's knees buckle. Then, after the first exam, Quinn learned how well Santana lived up to the resume that she had read weeks before. The professor was fairly disappointed in most of the students and how they performed. One student, though, stood out among the rest, and Quinn wasn't surprised in the least at who it was.

As she was handing back the exams, she stopped at Santana's seat—first row on the aisle—and pointedly placed the test in front of her, letting her hand linger on top of the blue book. Quinn looked around the room, making eye contact with many of the students who still had disheartened looks on their faces at receiving their subpar grades.

"I must say," Quinn began, "that I was rather displeased with much of what I saw on these first tests. It seemed that most of you didn't quite grasp the concepts behind _Corthell v. Summit_." Santana's eyes shifted between glancing up to watch Quinn's mouth as she spoke and her fingers that absentmindedly tapped on her exam. "In fact," Quinn continued, "only one of you actually appeared to get it." Students looked around the room with brows knitted in confusion.

Quinn looked down at the student in front of her. "Ms. Lopez, would you mind explaining to the rest of your colleagues the concept of 'reasonable recognition' and the facts of the Corthell case?" Santana's head snapped up and her eyes locked with Quinn's. Professor Fabray gave her a small smile and moved backwards towards the front of the classroom. Santana cleared her throat and never let her eyes leave Quinn.

As she delineated the facts of the case, the world fell away, and it was only she and Quinn in that large lecture room. The small smile never left Quinn's face as she listened to Santana teach her classmates; Quinn knew in that moment that Santana would make an effective attorney. Santana was clear, precise, and articulate, and she employed a tone that was authoritative while not being condescending.

Santana's initial nervousness, solely triggered by the scrutiny that she felt from her professor, slipped away, and she found her confidence easily. Once she was finished, she felt satisfied and pleased with herself. Her smile grew at Quinn's words. "Thank you, Ms. Lopez," Quinn said in a soft, warm voice as she walked towards her seated student. "I don't think I could have explained it better myself. Maybe the next time that I fall short of thoroughly covering a topic, I could get you to help me out." Santana blushed and looked down at her folded hands on her desk. Quinn chuckled and smiled again as Santana raised her head to meet her eyes. This time, Santana didn't look away; she matched Quinn's smile.

"Speaking of which," Quinn said, interrupting a moment between them, which registered deeply for both women. Quinn reviewed the general facts of _Eastern Airlines v. Gulf Oil Corporation_, effectively switching topics. Santana breathed a sigh of relief while also wondering about what has just happened. There was something in Quinn's eyes that she couldn't read but made her hopeful. Hopeful for what, she wasn't quite sure.

###

The lingering glances continued, and Quinn seemed to drift towards Santana as she moved around the classroom. She'd rest her hip against the edge of the long table at which Santana sat; her hand would drift to the corner and she would lean down slightly. Santana would be immediately distracted, whether her eyes were glued to a perfectly shaped ass only inches in front of her or a strong, delicate hand resting dangerously close to her chest.

Neither was sure how much longer the tension could build before _something_ happened…whatever that _something_ was. And, it was because of this gut feeling that made Santana hesitate in her decision to ask for help when she truly required it. But, she knew that she could maintain a professional relationship with her professor. She _had_ to—there wasn't another option.

Santana knocked on Professor Fabray's office door and immediately sucked in much-needed oxygen to calm her nerves. "Come in," a warm voice responded. Santana pushed open the door while she gave herself a pep talk.

Quinn glanced up from a book and placed her pen down. A bright smile took over her features. "Ms. Lopez, please, come in and have a seat. What can I help you with?"

"Thanks," Santana replied, nervousness apparent in her almost-shaky voice. "I'm stuck on express conditions. I just can't seem to wrap my head around the concept."

Quinn's smile softened, and she leaned forward on her desk, which invited Santana's gaze down towards enticing cleavage that was peaking out of her blouse. "Well, I can definitely help you out with that. Express conditions can be a bit tricky." She paused and looked down at her hands; she silently debated her next move. "Before we cover that, I must say, Ms. Lopez, that you have done very well in the course so far. I think you have great potential in this profession."

"Wow, thank you," Santana answered, not hiding the shock mixed with pride in her voice. "I'm flattered that you think so, and it means a lot coming from you." She punctuated this with a brilliant smile that Quinn couldn't help but return, though combined with a hint of red rushing over her cheeks. They held each other's gaze for what seemed like an eternity, just basking in newly found warmth that was slowly evolving into heat as the silence enveloped them.

"Anyway," Quinn started, shaking her head and looking back down at her hands in an effort to collect herself and suppress the desire sweeping through her. "Express conditions…what has you stumped?"

Santana couldn't break her gaze from Quinn's mouth as she spoke. "I…umm," Santana hesitated, feeling panic creep up on her. "You know," she paused again, not breaking eye contact with the woman across from her. "I think if I'm going to be a lawyer then I should be able to figure this stuff out for myself." Santana rose from the chair and turned towards the door. "I'm sorry I wasted your time."

Quinn laughed softly. "Santana," she said, which caused Santana to spin around, hearing her first name coming from Quinn's mouth stirred something in her. "You've been here for less than five minutes; you are certainly not wasting my time. And, it's my job to help you out and answer your questions. So, please sit back down so we can work through this." Quinn's tone was nearly pleading but comforting. It only made Santana more nervous and tense; she could feel her breathing shift as she looked into Quinn's eyes once again. Santana shook her head to clear her thoughts that were certainly not about 'express conditions.' Quinn knew exactly why she did that. When Santana looked back up to meet hazel-green eyes again, she simply said, "I can't" and turned towards the door again. With her hand on the doorknob, she paused as she heard Quinn's heels click on the floor, moving towards her. She closed her eyes, fighting back the rising rush of desire.

An arm brushed her shoulder, and Santana watched, as if slow motion, as Quinn's hand flattened against the door, holding it shut. When Quinn pushed her body slightly into Santana's, a small whimper escaped but neither knew from whom. It hung between them. The air thickened with the mounting tension. "No one can know," Quinn finally whispered.

A barely noticeable nod from Santana was all that was needed—silent consent, an agreement made in good faith. As if choreographed, Santana haphazardly dropped her books and bag while Quinn moved fully in front of her, effectively pinning her against the door; hands moved to hips and around a neck, pulling bodies together. Their almost-ragged breathing matched, and Quinn couldn't help but drop her gaze to Santana's full and inviting lips. "Please," Santana nearly whimpered, begging for what they both wanted since that first day of class.

Quinn responded to the plea by crashing their lips together, bypassing soft, exploratory kisses altogether in favor of the desperate, hungry kind about which both had been fantasizing. Santana gripped the back of Quinn's head with nearly painful need, and Quinn's hand replied by slipping over the curve of Santana's hip to her ass and pulled her own body further into Santana's. Quinn pressed Santana into the door even more as she shifted her legs to straddle Santana's thigh and began grinding against the rough fabric of her jeans. Santana could only moan into the frantic kiss, and she became even more audible as Quinn sucked her bottom lip on one particular deep roll of her hips.

As much as Quinn wanted her hands on Santana's breasts, they were drawn, instead, to the front of her jeans. As she fumbled with the button, she kissed along a strong jawline, causing Santana's head to slump back against the door. Quinn moved towards her lithe neck, tracing a protruding tendon with her tongue. As she slowly slid the zipper down, Quinn whispered, "I hope you're as wet as I am" and then sucked an earlobe into mouth, eliciting a groan from Santana. At those words, Santana grasped Quinn's wrist and shoved the hand into her jeans. With her free hand, she pulled Quinn's hair at the base of neck, so she could look in darkening hazel-green eyes. "You tell me," Santana asserted in a voice hoarse with desire.

Quinn pushed her hand passed the thin satin material of Santana's thong and when her fingers met soft, wet heat, she moaned and kissed Santana with a force that neither expected. Instinctually, Santana spread her legs as much as could then quickly changed her mind and wrapped a leg around Quinn's waist, giving the other woman more room and begging for her touch. Quinn broke the kiss to examine their new position; as her gaze drifted downwards, she slipped her fingers down, along either side of Santana's hardening clit to her dripping entrance. As the tips of Quinn's fingers grazed her opening, Santana rolled her hips. "I'm so fucking ready for you, Quinn. Please," Santana begged once more.

Quinn felt her mouth go dry at those words and immediately tore her gaze away from her hand buried in denim. She looked into nearly black dark brown eyes, which mirrored her own desire. Quinn leaned in, brushing her lips against Santana's and whispered, "You have to be quiet, but I want to hear you moan my name when you come." And with that, she easily slid two fingers inside Santana, who groaned and tossed her head back against the door with a thud. "Yes," she hissed at the feeling of Quinn filling her, moving within her. Quinn's lips immediately found purchase on Santana's exposed neck; she sucked on a pulse point as she curled her fingers, searching for the spot that would make Santana come undone against her.

Santana's energy was divided between remaining quiet, which went against every impulse that she had at the moment, and Quinn's rhythmic touch. Quinn moved her lips up to Santana's ear. "Santana, you feel so good; I love being inside you like this. I can't wait until you're naked underneath me and when I can really hear you," Quinn husked into Santana's sensitive ear. A moan and suggestive roll of the hips were the response to Quinn's promise.

Then, Quinn went deeper, the heel of her hand pushing deliciously against Santana's sensitive clit. This sent a trigger to Santana's hands, which immediately swept up to either side of Quinn's head. She dug her nails into the back and side of Quinn's head as she tugged her closer, smashing their lips together in a heated, wet kiss that was all insistent tongues and throaty moans.

Quinn's curled fingers found Santana's spot, and she rubbed in circles, eliciting a whimper and a mumbled "Yes" from Santana. The clenching around her fingers caused a renewed flood of wetness for Quinn. The anticipation of Santana coming, like this—against her office door—made Quinn tremble with pleasure. She reluctantly pulled away from the kiss to watch Santana cascade over the edge. Santana caught her eye, licked her lips, and moaned Quinn's name softly as she came around Quinn's fingers. Whatever energy wasn't being torn from her with the force of her orgasm was being used to keep quiet.

Their eyes never left each other, and as Santana came down, Quinn's arousal was evident nearly everywhere—her flushed skin, her irregular breathing, her darkened irises, and slight twitching. Seeing the effect that her coming had on Quinn only turned on Santana once more. She grabbed the wrist of the hand that was still inside of her and pulled. Quinn took the hint and removed her hand; she glanced down at her glistening fingers. Santana watched this and quietly said, "Taste me" while bringing those fingers up to Quinn's watering mouth.

Santana observed with rapt attention as Quinn slowly sucked every drop that she could off of her fingers while moaning at the musky, robust taste that was solely Santana. The erotic display captivated Santana and inspired her to begin pushing Quinn backwards until her thighs hit the desk. Quinn rose at eyebrow at the move, and Santana simply smiled in return. "My turn," she whispered as she grabbed the back of Quinn's legs and lifted her on to the desk. Quinn caught herself and leaned back on her hands. The look on Santana's face could only be called feral and made Quinn felt like she was a four-course meal at one of the city's finest restaurants. Santana ran her hands to the front of Quinn's bare thighs and pushed the skirt up to her waist. She immediately rolled her eyes back in pleasure as Quinn's smell hit her nose. She whimpered and returned her gaze to the apex of Quinn's legs. Quinn watched as Santana licked her lips in anticipation.

"Let me," Quinn offered and slid her black satin thong down her legs.. She returned to the position that Santana had placed her in but spread her legs wider. Santana moaned as she watched Quinn's wet, swollen, soft skin come into view and at the hard clit that awaited her tongue. She held Quinn's legs against her and just studied the woman below her. She watched Quinn get wetter under her intense scrutiny. Quinn needed Santana's mouth on her, so she slid her fingers down her stomach and then spread herself—an invitation. "Please, Santana. I need you; I need your mouth right here," and she dragged one finger over her clit to show Santana exactly where "here" was. Quinn couldn't tell if it was an actual growl or moan that left Santana's mouth at that moment, but when Santana nearly threw Quinn's legs over her shoulders, bent down, and licked her entire length, Quinn didn't care.

"Oh fuck, yes," Quinn moaned quietly as Santana slowly ran her tongue up and down alongside Quinn's throbbing clit. Santana whimpered at tasting Quinn, at how warm and soft she was, and at knowing that Quinn was so close to coming. Quinn tangled her fingers in thick, dark hair and tugged Santana even closer. Santana couldn't wait any longer; she glanced up at Quinn just as Quinn looked down. Their eyes locked, and Santana then slowly wrapped her full lips around Quinn's pulsing, hard clit. Both women moaned; Quinn felt Santana's reverberate through her, causing her orgasm to approach even more quickly.

Santana drew her tongue along Quinn's clit, reveling in the feel of it changing at her touch. She watched as Quinn's face contorted in pleasure: her lips slightly apart, skin flushed, eyes unfocused. Santana was hypnotized by Quinn in every way—her taste, her smell, the feel of her skin. She wanted to watch Quinn come and to taste the flood that she knew would meet her lips when Quinn did. At that, she slid her tongue up to the hard, sensitive tip of Quinn's clit and teased it, causing Quinn to inhale sharply and tighten her grip on Santana's hair. "Fuck," Quinn hissed at the pleasurable pain that shot through her as Santana's tongue worked its magic. "Right there, Santana," she whimpered.

With one final push of her tongue, Santana threw Quinn over the edge. Quinn bucked up her hips violently against Santana's mouth, and she came harder than she expected. Santana moaned deeply as wave after wave washed over Quinn; she felt a new rush of wetness coat her lips and chin. She drank every drop, savoring Quinn's taste—a heady mixture of sweet and tangy.

Quinn went limp, her arms dropping out from underneath her. She flopped back on to her desk and threw an arm over her eyes. The small smile that crept across her face triggered the same response from Santana, who, despite her desire to stay exactly where she was, pulled away and gently placed Quinn's legs down on either side of her own legs.

"I can't believe we just did that in my office," Quinn confessed with laughter in her voice. Santana's grin grew, and she ran her hands over Quinn's thighs, in effort to maintain some kind of contact with her.

In a light, almost surprised tone, Santana replied, "I can't believe that I waited that long to kiss you." At this, Quinn moved her arm and looked up at Santana. She sat up and wrapped her arms around Santana's waist. They met in the middle; the kiss was slow and lazy—another silent understanding, a promise.

Quinn pulled back and idly ran her hands up and down Santana's back, just enjoying their closeness. "Maybe I can explain 'express conditions' in the morning…over coffee in bed?" she suggested with hopefulness in her voice. Santana's bright smile was all the answer that she needed.

_Fin_.


End file.
